


That Mutual Dance of Mighty Heroism

by Tassos



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Casual Sex, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Feelings Realization, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Male-Female Friendship, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 04:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11268345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassos/pseuds/Tassos
Summary: In a slightly altered canon-world where Cordelia's visions do indeed pass to The Groosalugg, Groo finds himself in need of a warrior companion and he has been reliably informed that recently returned Faith would be most excellent.Faith's not so sure this is going to work out. But he's pretty to look at.She wasn't expecting feelings to happen.





	That Mutual Dance of Mighty Heroism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hannah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by [a post Hannah wrote about Faith and The Groosalugg becoming buddies](https://hannah.dreamwidth.org/1016605.html), which I thought was a glorious idea, and then she asked me to write it when I offered fic for a fundraiser. I'm so happy she did. :)
> 
> Thanks to kate_writes and Hannah for beta reading.

When Groo first showed up on her doorstep with his dentist-white smile, button-down shirt, and a battle axe slung over his shoulder, Faith nearly put him through a wall just on principle.

"Faith, Slayer of Vampires and Defeater of Darkness. I come to beseech your aid," he'd said loudly, enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

"Who the fuck are you?" She was about five seconds from kicking his ass and didn't hide it. He took in her crossed arms and frown, and for a moment his pearly-whites dimmed, but a second later he rallied, doubling down on the smile.

"I am The Groosalugg!"

He was a couple french fries short of a Happy Meal, was what he was. 

"But you can call me Groo. I'm told it is a most honored tradition to invite your friends to call you the shortened form of your name."

"We're not friends." In spite of herself, Faith felt the urge to kick in his teeth fractionally subside.

"No. But! We have friends in common!" This Groo guy announced cheerfully. "I was sent to you by Angel, who told me you would be a most excellent warrior companion in my quest to vanquish the demons who threaten harm to innocents of this fair city."

"'Most excellent warrior companion?'" Faith's eyebrow rose, even as a few pieces clicked into place.

"Yes!"

"You're the guy who inherited Cordy's visions."

"Yes!" He said with some relief, and his smiled broadened if that was possible.

He was so sincere, Faith had a feeling her eyes would fall out of her head by the end of the night from rolling them so hard.

"Did Angel tell you about me?" 

"Yes," Groo said, and his cheery cheer dropped into something more serious. Faith noticed for the first time that his eyes were wholly black. He was mostly demon, she knew. That wasn't what unsettled her, though. The calm way he stared right at her as if he saw straight through to the heart of her, that did.

Faith shifted her weight and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "You got wheels?"

"Wheels?"

"A car. To get us where we're going?" Faith said slowly.

"Ah, yes!" He turned and pointed to a blue Honda Accord parked neatly in a visitor space in front of her building.

Faith sighed. This was going to be a long night. "Let me get my boots."

* * *

The thing of it was, once you got past the flowery words and stupid sincere smile, Groo really wasn't that bad.

He had zero patience, zero stealth, and zero fucks to give before throwing himself into a fight. He nearly gave Faith a heart attack when he let out a battle cry at full volume as he dove into the middle of a half dozen spiky demons. She had to admire a guy like that — she took a moment to watch the flex of his shoulders before a second demon came up behind him, and she threw herself into the fight.

It was bam, blam, thank you demon-man as she spun her blade in and around the small pack of them. She fell into her rhythm and was startled to find that Groo neatly matched her, following her lead until all the demons were splatter and spludge at their feet. It was no fighting with Buffy, but, well, Faith had had fun. She grinned at him, unsurprised to find him returning it, before she nodded at their victim.

Groo hurried off to take care of her while Faith hung back. His sincere assurances were just what the poor traumatized kid needed. Slow simple sentences. A nice bicep to hold onto. Faith rolled her eyes at herself. She so did not need complicated right now. She was trying the whole go-it-alone thing, after Robin, taking a page out of Buffy's stupid cookie cutter metaphor or whatever.

"So," she said, once Groo got the girl on her way and ambled back over. He was a mess. She was a mess. "I'm hankering for Denny's. You in?"

"Denny's?" he asked, confused.

"Oh my god," Faith rolled her eyes. "Come on."

* * *

"This is the most marvelous delicacy I have ever tasted!" Groo exclaimed over pancakes and blueberry syrup. 

Faith had gotten eggs, sausage, and waffles, but had passed on the fake syrups. Still, his enthusiasm made her grin more than roll her eyes. Groo was like a little kid — everything in this world was so new to him. Normally Faith wouldn't have the time of day for someone like him, but he was so sincere and didn't ask her to get excited too, so Faith found herself being charmed despite herself. 

Sue her. It had been a rough couple months and she was trying this whole new thing.

"Food not that great where you're from?"

"I would eat the raw flesh of mofgan beasts I defeated in the Scum Pits of Ur, seasoned only by their flouta droppings."

"Please tell me that doesn't mean what I think it means." Faith made a face.

"It is exactly what you think it means." Groo glanced up from his pancakes with no trace of a joke on his face. "The mofgan like the taste of flouta birds but they are too large for them to swallow whole, so their limbs often dropped from their mouths. They are quite tasty, but sadly not filling."

Stifling a laugh, Faith could not believe this guy. "Yeah, that's not really much better than what I was imagining."

"Tell me then. What is your favorite fare?" Groo leaned forward, knife and fork in each hand, eager to know.

Faith sat back in her chair. She had to think about that. 

"Steak, cooked rare," she finally said. "High quality beef, you know. With a perfect baked potato, all the fixings." When she thought back on it, the food at dinner made up her best memories of working for the Mayor. He knew how to hire a chef.

"We will have to share this meal after our next victory," Groo said, grinning.

* * *

So it became a thing. Groo would show up on Faith's doorstep with a vision, weapons, and a grin, and drag her out for some ass-kicking. He'd throw himself into the fight, and Faith would take a moment to admire the aesthetics before throwing herself in after him. They'd hang out for a while afterwards, sometimes grabbing food, sometimes hitting a strip mall for some window shopping — it's not like they were getting paid. Sometimes, if the fight was too easy, they'd take a walk through a dark alley to see what took the bait.

"You — you are truly a magnificent warrior. A thing of beauty! I have never seen such skill!" Groo exclaimed after one jaunt, where Faith laid on the cow eyes then took out two peruacas in under five seconds with a fancy double reverse swipe of her blade. 

Groo was backlit by the streetlight at the mouth of the alley, having pulled up short when he saw he wasn't needed. It was hard to tell the look on his face, shadowed as it was, but Faith couldn't help the smile that spread across hers at the tone of his voice. Admiration. Awe. It wasn't something people told her much, not when it came to fighting, and she had to admit, it stroked her ego to hear.

"Yeah?" she said, sauntering toward him.

"You must show me!" Groo said, taking a practice swing with his own sword, that while it wasn't quite the move she'd pulled, was still fluid and graceful.

Faith licked her lips. 

"Sure," she said. "I can show you at my place."

And she did. In the spare room that was her gym, Faith stripped down to her tank while Groo easily lost his goo-ridden shirt, baring a stunning display of muscles. It was a good thing Faith could do the move in her sleep because she was a little distracted when she first demonstrated it. They walked through the double reverse move a couple times till Groo had it, a dazzling white grin breaking out across his face the first time he pulled it off. Then they sparred for a while till Faith's eyes were as black as Groo's, and she put him down on the mat hard, landing on top of him, enjoying the slide of her sweaty arms across his sweaty torso.

Groo looked stunned at first, like he couldn't figure out what she wanted, and then when Faith couldn't resist grinding her hips against his, he looked like he couldn't figure out why she wanted him.

"Faith," he said, the tiniest bit breathless. "I've done nothing to earn this attention from you. I am a miserable companion unworthy of your affection."

It was the way he said "affection" that did it, like it was something precious, something good. The word softened the want in Faith's belly into something fond. She brushed away the hair that was sticking awkwardly to his forehead. 

"You're a pretty rad warrior companion," she told him. She felt warm all down to her toes. "And it doesn't have to mean more than you want it to."

She leaned in to kiss him, but paused before their lips met. Unlike her younger self, she waited for his head to tilt up toward her before she closed the distance.

Turned out Groo was pretty fluid and graceful between the sheets too.

* * *

Groo was hesitant their first night out afterward, but when Faith acted like it was no big deal, business as usual, he got with the program. They kept on kicking ass and hanging out afterward. 

Faith was feeling good. Better than good. The cobwebs of self-whatever leftover from Robin and that whole mess seemed to have shaken loose. She still had it. She could still do casual sex, get a little itch scratched, and not have it mean roses and marriage or worrying about hurting someone's feelings by accident all the time. Being in a relationship was exhausting. Being with Groo was . . . fun.

"Tell me again about the Scum Pits of Ur," she said one night, and Groo launched into the tale of how he'd been cast out and sent to battle beasts until they were all vanquished.

"Cordelia told me that this dimension does not have such a proving ground," he said, sitting back in his chair and tossing his head. His hair was growing out, and it was in that awkward stage where only some of it would stay back in a half ponytail and the rest fell into his eyes.

"Well, no Scum Pits per se," said Faith, stealing a couple fries from his plate. "But let me tell you about South Boston. That's where I grew up, and I was pretty much on my own too."

"You will tell me of your origins?" Groo sat up eagerly. "We must have more beer!"

So they got more beer, and Faith told him a couple stories about her childhood — the ones she usually pulled out whenever anyone wanted a sob story and she needed to ward off the pity. Groo listened as they sat in the dim light of the back corner of the dive bar, finishing off his second beer. He laughed at the right parts and grinned when she described her first fights before the Calling. His black, black eyes fixed on Faith as she sketched over some of the worse parts that cut a little close. She waited for the furrowed brow that said hearing her sob story made him uncomfortable. Some after-school special bullshit was the reaction Faith usually got whenever she let slip this shit. 

But Groo's brow didn't furrow and he nodded through her childhood trauma like it wasn't anything special. He clinked his beer bottle with hers — she'd had to teach him that — when she wrapped up the story of her first fight after the Watchers found her. 

"To valiant proving grounds!" he proclaimed and then chugged the rest of his beer and jumped to his feet.

Faith grinned. She'd never thought of her shitty childhood that way before, but she liked it. "What are you doing?" she asked.

Groo was drunk. He had to be. She'd never seen him get trashed before, but yes, he was climbing on top of the table, pushing up the sleeves of his sweater that somehow had dodged all the blood and dirt of the evening.

"Your tale of your origins is too magnificent for a simple 'cheer,'" he said, swinging his arms and throwing his head back. "You deserve the Dance of Mighty Heroism!"

"Oh. My god." Faith watched in growing horror as he started to tap dance or clog or some shit while singing wordlessly and doing something with his hands by his waist. Basically he looked like a drunk crazy person, and Faith had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't actually drunk after all.

The whole bar was staring now, while Groo danced on their table, and Faith saw the bouncer and the bartender taking pictures before starting over, but she couldn't look away.

"Oh my god," she said again, when Groo suddenly did a spin and stomp, grinning at Faith, and he looked so fucking ridiculous, Faith couldn't even. Because even though he looked like a twelve-year old at his first dance who'd been told that dancing was crossing a stiff board with jumping beans, he was moving the way he did when he fought — all in, no regrets, joy in the power he held over his captive audience.

Amid the catcalls, and the bouncer coming up to them, Faith said, "Oh my god, Groo, you have to stop and get down from there."

"But I'm dancing your Dance of Mighty Heroism!"

"We'll, you're going to have to do that on the floor!" Faith told him, breaking into laughter when instead of stopping like a normal person he did a backflip off the table and stuck the landing. The bar went wild with cheers, and Groo swept Faith up in his next spin. The bouncer left now that he was off the table, taking another picture before he went.

Faith barely noticed. She was too busy trying to get her body to move like a cross between a stiff board and a jumping bean.

* * *

"I can't believe you did that," she said when they finally stumbled out of the bar. After the dancing there had been a half dozen rounds bought for them by other people looking for an encore. Faith was definitely drunk. She had a hold of Groo's very nice bicep and very nice forearm and was maybe leaning on him, but she could totally walk in a straight line. Faith was fucking graceful.

"It was my honor to hear stories of you in your first battles," said Groo. He wasn't drunk. Or he wasn't that drunk. Faith squinted up at him. It was hard to tell.

Groo smiled down at her this fucking nice smile. Why was he so nice? And sincere? All Faith did was give him crap for being too into everything, and all he did back was smile and tell her why he liked it. Like, for instance, her. She didn't like it.

"What do you care about where I come from anyway?" she grumbled. "I hate where I came from."

"Because we are all shaped by the first fire we are forged in," Groo said.

"Do you like me? Because I'm not very likable. Most people hate me in fact. I mean, I am a pro at betrayal and murder, you know what I'm saying? You shouldn't like me." A couple years of prison, a couple years of working for some sort of redemption. What did it all matter in the end when you couldn't change the past anyway? God, she hated being drunk. She started thinking … things.

"You talk about yourself as if you are monstrous." Groo's arm more firmly wrapped around her waist, keeping her on her feet.

"I guess because I am."

"Well, so am I," said Groo, which made Faith snort because, yeah. Right.

* * *

Faith woke up at Groo's place. She'd been over only once, when it was closer for emergency laundry after an acid-spitting looger demon had upchucked all over her. She was on the couch, under a blanket, and shuffling feet noises and the crackle of a pan frying something were coming from the kitchen.

Rolling over she could just see over her feet to where he was cooking at the stove. Groo was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only pajama bottoms. His hair hung into his eyes and every once in a while he would shake it out of his way. He seemed to be concentrating very hard. Whatever he was cooking smelled good, but she couldn't tell what it was.

Faith let herself just watch him, feeling easy and relaxed in a way that she wasn't used to in the presence of anyone else. It had been, what? Five months since he'd started showing up with visions of baddies for them to fight? Given her a reason to go out, a little bit of direction for her purpose in life. She could be as strong and forward as she liked with him and he always had some sideways Pylean way of responding. It was… nice, she decided. She could get used to him putting her to bed and making her breakfast in the morning.

Of course, then her musings were interrupted by the pan catching fire, the smoke alarm going off, and Groo dancing around trying to put the fire out. Faith tried not to laugh her ass off at him when she went to help.

* * *

"I was going to make you a traditional feast to break your fast," Groo said mournfully staring at the blackened remains of whatever the fuck had been in the pan.

"I know. I'm sure it would have been awesome." Faith stuck her head in his freezer, and yes. He had some. "Come on. This will make you feel better." She waggled the carton of vanilla ice cream at him.

"But that is a sweet dessert," Groo said, frowning.

"Nope, this is comfort food." Faith found two spoons and pulled him with her back to the couch. Once they were seated, she handed one to him and waited till he dug in, even with the expression of extreme skepticism on his face because they were breaking all the rules.

"See? Better right?" she asked after a minute when his frown had eased.

"Yeah," Groo said, the word sounding loose on his tongue. He shifted, finally relaxing into the cushions.

Faith found the TV remote and found some cartoons and snuggled into Groo's warm side, the carton of ice cream on her knee. Groo lifted his arm so she could fit against him, no big deal. He was frowning at the TV now and was soon engrossed.

Yeah, nice was a good word for it.

* * *

"Do you want me to rub your feet?" Groo asked her. 

It'd been at least two weeks since the morning cartoons and ice cream. He'd had a break from visions for longer than usual, and Faith, restless, had dragged him out in his blue Honda to go dancing before heading back to her place.

Faith stretched her arms above her head, feeling the lovely stretch in her muscles. The sheet slid off her bare thigh, and she wiggled away from Groo a little bit, though not too far. Boy gave off heat like a furnace.

"Rub my feet?" She rolled her head on the pillow to look at him. She was close enough that he had three black eyes to go with the sincere look on his face.

"Cordelia would ask me to. She said Angel would-"

"Whoa, wait, stop." Faith rolled onto her side, not caring that the sheet slipped the rest of the way off of her. "I am not Cordelia, and I don't need you to be Angel." A thought occurred to her. "Wait. You don't think of me like you did Cordelia, do you? You're not -"

"No," Groo said, but he was still frowning. "But the princess was the only woman of your realm I have ever kokrapt."

Faith took a moment to try and parse whatever it was he meant by _that_. "You don't say," she commented dryly.

"It is only that — I just want —" Groo didn't get frustrated easily, but he was now, and he flopped onto his back with a huff, his head turning back to look at Faith. "Things ended badly between Cordelia and myself."

"And . . ."

"And I don't want that with you."

Taken aback, Faith smiled reflexively. "Well, hey, good thing we're not a thing doing a thing," she said, confusing poor Groo, who, oh god, was taking this way more seriously that Faith was ready for.

"Have we not just . . . done a thing?" Groo looked suggestively down at their naked bodies and the twisted sheet.

"This? This is fun, right?" Faith told him. "Look. Forget about the relationship stuff. Like I said, I don't need my damn feet rubbed. Just do what comes natural, and we'll keep getting along just fine."

"Natural?"

"Yeah. You know. You're hot, I'm hot. We work up a sweat kicking demon ass, and sometimes afterward we work up a sweat fucking. It doesn't have to be complicated."

"Just natural," Groo said, mulling it over, looking at her with his black, black eyes. Glad to have that sorted out, Faith lay down again, this time snuggling up to Groo when he lifted his arm out of the way, happy to have uncomplicated snuggles that didn't have to mean anything.

* * *

So that was that. Groo wasn't weird about it, which was a relief. Well, okay, he wasn't weirder about it than he was about anything else. 

He still asked oddball questions and he had a sudden hankering to watch all of the _Fast and the Furious_ movies that Faith did not understand considering that his tiny Honda, which he adored, barely topped 80 on the freeway. He showed up one afternoon with these creeper vine plants and tried to insist they were excellent for obscuring doorways you wanted to remain hidden, or you know, decorating _caves_.

"You trying to tell me something?" she asked when he told her they'd covered a whole wall in his chosen cave in the Scum Pits of Ur, and he'd even taken the time to braid them into _tapestries_ because he had nothing else to decorate with.

"I think they are beautiful. Like you!" Groo grinned at her, so absolutely, one hundred percent meaning it. Faith, a little blindsided whenever he did this — and it was more often than she would have thought — managed not to roll her eyes in his face and crush his dreams. He got this kicked-puppy look that she hated, and enough other people laughed at him when his Pyleanness was on display that she didn't like being one of them. Not anymore.

"Damn straight!" she said instead, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She accepted the damn plants and found a spot for them on the sill. They were kind of nice, and that was the last thought she spared for them before grabbing her keys and her crossbow and following him out the door.

* * *

"So what does Groosalugg mean anyway?" Faith asked one night when they were slouched in the Honda waiting for some loan sharks to come by. They'd been there for _hours_ , and there were only so many rounds of I Spy she could stand with Groo when he kept using Pylean words because he was a little shit.

"Brave and undefeated," said Groo. "It is is the name I earned by besting every foe who rose to challenge me."

"So it's not your real name," Faith guessed.

"It is my real name." Groo kept wiggling in his seat, too big to properly slouch in the Honda. His eyes were steadfastly fixed on the back alley door under the sign he'd seen in his vision. Some other demons were involved with the deal. Faith hadn't been paying much attention to that part.

"But what did your parents name you?" Faith clarified.

"Ashaiduk." Groo's eyes broke from the door for a split second to catch hers, adding before she had to ask, "My mother named me for a small, famed flower that grew spry and strong and could withstand any storm in the fields behind our home." 

"You were named after a flower?" Faith said.

"Yes!" He grinned at her. "A good strong name."

"What color?"

"Pink like the color of a ceristoon's eyes."

Faith couldn't believe it. "Okay, one, ceristoons are butt ugly. And two, you're the badass Groosalugg and the first thing your people would think if they heard your real name is 'small pink flower'?"

"No. They'd think spry, strong, and able to withstand any storm," Groo said slowly, with a whole lot of "duh" in his voice that just made Faith laugh.

"Whatever, flower boy." Oh, she was going to milk this.

"What does your name mean?"

"My name? It's means a kind of promise."

"A promise?"

"Yeah, that I'm the storm that can take down your flower ass," Faith said, grinning.

Groo got that look in his eye that he did when he was watching her fight. "I would be honored to be whipped by your winds."

Then he looked confused when Faith couldn't stop laughing. She took pity on him after a minute and explained about "being whipped" or, you know, " _being whipped_ ".

"Only if you're into that sort of thing," she said.

"This is something you've done?" Groo asked, curiously.

Faith tilted her head back and forth, looking out the window back toward the doorway. "I've done it for people once or twice. I don't get off on being under someone else's control."

"No, you excel when you are in control," Groo nodded.

"What about you?" Faith couldn't help but ask now that the conversation had gone there.

Groo was quiet for a minute as he thought about it. That little line formed in his brow. "I was born a man who does his duty. Duty is all I was good for, deformed as I am," he said. He glanced at Faith briefly, like he was checking to see that she was listening. "When I went to comshuck with the princess — Cordelia — I did so because it was my duty. And when she turned out to be -" He sighed. "When we came back to this dimension I had no eyes but for her, no other duty was more important than her happiness. I was kokrapt and it felt right. I didn't want it any other way. Even when she wanted me to be -" He stopped again, but Faith didn't need him to finish that sentence. She knew who Cordy was in love with. 

"And now?" she asked quietly. Not that Faith cared, except for the fact that she did.

"Now, I think that I like it when you watch me fight," Groo said, which answered absolutely nothing.

"Okay," said Faith, not sure what he wanted her to say. "Well, I can keep doing that."

"And I like that things are not complicated between us," Groo continued, finally looking at her again. "They are just natural."

That had Faith's grin back because she could drink to that. After they dealt with the loan shark and helped out a few cash-strapped folks who'd finally shown up.

"Looks like it's show time," she said, nodding out the window. As one they swung out of the Honda and sauntered down the alley. Faith gave Groo a sideways glance, grinning when he caught her eye. They were in sync as they walked, in sync as they loosened their weapons and barged through the doorway after the shark and his victims. In sync as Groo covered half the room while Faith made small talk. In sync when the inevitable fight came to them, covering each other, passing off weapons, getting their work done. Faith hadn't felt this in sync with anyone since those first few months fighting with Buffy.

When Faith had originally told Groo that they should let it be natural and follow their instincts, she'd been talking about just sex. But this, here now, in this grungy back room, fighting darkness and ridiculous shark-headed demons next to Groo, it felt natural, too.

* * *

They'd been working together for eight months when Groo asked her over to his place without a vision being involved in the preceding hours. He sounded as sincere as ever on the phone but she still asked if something was wrong. 

"No! Why would anything be wrong?" he replied, which was exactly what Faith would expect someone lying to her would say. But it was Groo, so she ended up taking him at his word and heading over.

When he opened the door for her, she was not expecting what she found inside. Groo's apartment was lit by candlelight. Hundreds of candles on every surface, including the table in the center of the room where a medium sized roasted _something_ sat like a Christmas turkey. It was definitely not a Christmas turkey since it had paws and haunches, but for the life of her Faith couldn't figure out what it was.

"Welcome!" Groo grinned bright and cheery. For Faith, who'd picked up on a few of his tells, it seemed a little too cheery, like Groo was nervous. He was wearing jeans and a soft green sweater, clothing she normally only saw him in the morning after if they'd come back to his place, which wasn't often. His hair, shoulder length now, was pulled back in a half-pony tail that looked at once both neat and soft. 

"What's all this?"

"Let me take your jacket." Groo came around behind her and helped her out of it like a butler. It was oddly formal, but he didn't give her time to be awkward, taking her hand and leading her to the table. "Please." He pulled her chair out for her.

"You're being weirder than usual," Faith said, glancing over her shoulder at the door. Honestly, she was a little freaked, right now. This felt like something Robin would pull, trying to be all romantic with her, and she and Groo had never been like that.

Groo sat in the chair to her right, turning so he was facing her head on. "Faith, these last months you have been my steadfast companion."

"Groo, what is this?" Faith squirmed in her chair, sure she didn't want to hear what he was going to say. 

"I wish to express to you my gratitude and admiration for your companionship. You have helped me navigate this city and this realm when you could have chosen only to strike death into the hearts of our foes. All who told me of your exploits also warned me of the darkness that hides within you, but I have only seen a shining beacon that has survived the strongest storms."

"Groo -" It was too much. Faith shoved away from his big, black eyes, standing abruptly. She had to get out of there.

"Faith, wait!" Groo came after her but he didn't try to grab her, and for that reason alone, Faith paused. He always respected that she could kick his ass, always respected her boundaries, and she couldn't stand that stupid hurt in his voice.

"What?" She snapped. "What is this? With the candles and the . . . the . . ." she gestured helplessly at whatever he'd roasted on the table.

"It's a raccoon I hunted myself," Groo said guilelessly. "I wanted to show you that I can provide for you as you have provided for me."

"A raccoon?" Faith's laugh felt like the only thing papering over her panic at the moment. "Of course you hunted it yourself."

"What is wrong?" He seemed so confused.

"I told you I didn't want any of this!" Faith shouted. When his confusion didn't clear, she repeated,"This!" with another expansive gesture at the roast raccoon and the way everything was set up all nice. "A relationship!"

"But we have a relationship," Groo said, and fuck, there was the hurt in his voice.

"We don't. We have sex," Faith told him. "It doesn't mean anything. I thought you got that."

"But sex is only what we do," said Groo. "It is a natural extension of our relationship."

Faith couldn't believe what she was hearing, not from him. "I'm not your fucking girlfriend!"

The words hung between them for a moment, long enough for Faith to feel the fury and adrenaline course through her, ready to fight him if need be. It was the only feeling that mattered as she tried to squash the pang of betrayal that made it hard to breathe. 

But Groo's eyes widened, and his face, instead of falling with crushed assumptions, cleared of its confusion. His shoulders straightened when he spoke as earnestly as ever.

"I speak not of girlfriendship as on TV; I would wish that fate on no one," he said. "I speak of our camaraderie on the field of battle and the bond shared in victory and defeat. You are the extension of my sword arm and my shield to guard me. You speak truth with me that I might do the same with you. I know I am but a fledgeling in your world, but you have shared its wonders with me. All this?" He gestured around them, and Faith, wide-eyed herself now, utterly stunned, had no idea what he was going to say next.

"It is customary among _my_ people to feast when you wish to honor your truest companions. And a feast is only as great as the beast you've slain. Only then can you share your heart's admiration."

His black, black eyes held hers. Faith was caught so off-guard by his words. People had said stuff like that to her before. If Groo had been a human guy, she'd be waiting for the other shoe to turn into a trap, locking her into some cycle of guilt and reciprocation. But it was Groo. He was so honest it made Faith's teeth hurt. He had this core of inner goodness that seemed nigh on untouchable. He danced on tables, admired her fighting, and unashamedly loved being named after a flower. He was nothing like the men who'd trailed through Faith's life, with the possible exception of Angel, and even then she didn't have the urge to just hang out with him all the time like she did with Groo.

Sincere, sweet Groo who never hesitated when he threw himself into a fight, nor, it seemed, when declaring you his battle bestie forever.

"Don't want -" Faith had to clear her throat of the frog that was suddenly living there. "Don't want anyone to get the idea you can't still roast them too, huh?"

Groo grinned at her for catching on so quick, and it was as infectious as it ever was. Faith smiled back, a little hesitant, feeling deflated from the unexpected loss of her righteous anger, but also awash in something she was hesitant to name.

"Shall we eat?" he asked after the moment dragged out, his grin turning careful, hopeful.

"Yeah." Faith cleared her throat again. "Yeah, let's do that. You can tell me how a raccoon counts as a great beast."

"Have you never tried to catch one?" Groo took up the conversation with visible relief.

They sat back at the table. Groo served up the raccoon, and they bantered back and forth like it was any other evening, both of them ignoring the currents that had shifted between them.

* * *

Faith sat on the roof of her apartment building all night. She couldn't sleep for the swelling of emotion in her heart. Her skin was buzzing, her thoughts raced. She stared at the black sky, imagining stars up there. Real things that existied in the midst of the city lights that she had to take on faith. 

She had so much baggage, she should be called UPS. Groo deserved better than to be caught up in all that.

But all she could think about was his steady gaze over dinner. Not boring into her, not seeing into her soul, but grounding her. Telling her that the stars were out there if she wanted to reach for them.

* * *

"So listen," Faith said when she showed up on Groo's doorstep eight hours later. 

Groo had opened the door wearing that soft sweater and jeans, with his hair down, hanging loosely to frame his face. He stepped to the side to invite her in. 

Faith turned to face him. "I don't want any promises or anything. I'm not in love with you. I'm not the falling-in-love type, okay?" She paced a bit. Groo nodded at her but didn't say anything.

"I'm not anything special. I don't want anything special," she said, and then huffed a half a laugh. "I didn't think it would ever feel like anything special again, fighting this fight. But does. With you. It's like it's -" she rushed on, not wanting to linger on her confession but unable to find the words to chase the others away. "It's . . ."

"Natural?" Groo offered.

"Yeah." Breath left Faith in a sigh, and with it some of her pent up anxiety. "Yeah. It just fits, you know?"

"We fit," Groo said, and it wasn't a question. A small smile was breaking over his face, and Faith felt a surge of fondness at the sight of it.

"Yeah," she said, smiling too, because it was Groo with his heart on his sleeve, and she could tell him. "So I know last night took me by surprise. But you told me the truth so I wanted to tell you, too." She took a breath, not sure she was ready but diving in anyway. "I didn't think being fighting buddies with you would last, but it has, and I'm glad it has. You're a hella wicked fighter, and you want to help people, and that doesn't scare you. You're not scared of anything except burning breakfast. You're not scared of me. It's been a . . . I don't know. Most people end up afraid of me by this point and don't want to hang out with me, much less cook me dinner."

"Dinner is the second most important meal of the day," Groo said. "And most important for celebrating."

"Is that what you're thinking every time we go out to eat after we mop up?"

"I'm thinking that there is no other I would wish to celebrate our travails with. Is that . . ." Groo's voice softened. "I know that it is not always what my companion is thinking -"

"It's the best part of my day," Faith interrupts him. "That's what I've been trying to say. I like this thing we have going, so let's keep doing it."

"We have a thing now?" Groo sounds so excited that Faith has to laugh. She denied it before, but now.

"Yeah. I guess maybe we do." It wasn't anything mushy. But it was nice. Better than nice.

Groo took a couple steps toward her. "Might I kiss you?"

"Oh hells yeah."

His lips on hers did not hesitate. They did not shy away. All they wanted was her. Faith twined her arms around Groo's shoulders and replied in kind.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, when Groo slipping her tongue had progressed to him slipping her something else, he gasped with wide-eyes and a distant gaze that meant a vision was blocking his view of her.

"Faith," he gasped.

"Ten more minutes," she said, so close. "Then we'll go save the world."


End file.
